No More Denial
by The Scratch Man
Summary: An alternate ending for my one-shot 'Denial'. What if Jean Paul followed Bobby? Admittedly, this one has a much better ending. Read both fics and tell me which one you like! Jean Paul/Bobby Drake SLASH. You have been warned.


Disclaimer: I don't own the X Men, just this plot!

A/N: Because I didn't like 'Denial's sad-ish ending, I decided to made another story with a DIFFERENT ending! A happy- ish one! Enjoy!

I'm not gay. I like girls.

So I guess it was really fucking messed up that my heart beat always went NASCAR whenever Jean Paul Beaubier was around these days.

Which was a lot, considering that we've become fast friends.

Like I said: fucked up.

I'm not gay. I like girls. But I also liked Jean Paul. There was no denying it. He was the _only_ exception, though.

I started trying to avoid him when I realized my feelings toward him. Maybe he weird feeling would pass in time. Unfortunately, Jean Paul noticed I was avoiding him. And he was pissed.

"Why the fuck do you act like you do not know me whenever I see you, Bobby?" Jean Paul demands one day after hunting me down and cornering me in my room, where I was indulging myself in a beer.

"What do you mean?" I say curtly.

"Don't try that shit with me," Jean Paul snaps, "Answer the fucking question,"

"I don't act like I don't know you," I say, attempting to push Jean Paul out.

"You ignore me!" Jean Paul says, unmoving.

I give up on trying to make _him_ leave, and start towards the door myself.

Jean Paul grabs my arm, "Robert, look at me!" He twists me around, forcing me to meet his eyes. I gaze into the angry blue eyes and he glares back.

I look away, "I gotta go," I mutter, turning.

"Robert," Jean Paul says simply. His voice holds no anger. It is just an innocent statement. It could mean anything.

I didn't drink a lot of beer. I had two sips, I swear. Maybe that was all it took to make all my good sense fly out the window.

I turn around and kiss him. Just one, intense, short one. When I pull away, Jean Paul's just staring, expressionless. I turn around and flee my room.

**(THIS IS WHERE THE NEW ENDING COMES IN) **

I race down the hall and then the staircase. I'll hide in the freezer, I decide and head to the kitchen.

"Bobby!" a hand suddenly grabs mine and I'm pulled to a stop.

I want to sink into the floor and vanish forever. It's Jean Paul.

"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry…" I blurt out, thinking fast to work damage control. Jean Paul is simply giving me this look.

Pity?

No, I don't –I _can't_ do pity.

"Oh, Robert, I-" Jean Paul started, reaching a hand out.

"No! Just leave me the fuck alone!" I yell, pushing him away. I manage to stumble back up the stairs and into my room again.

Hot tears spill over onto my cheeks and the funny thing is, I can't even stop myself and think rationally.

I'm so embarrassed for my actions. So angry at Jean Paul for giving me that look of pity.

I ice up my hand and form a ball of ice inside, which I throw angrily at the wall. It cracks and ice falls onto my carpet.

"Stupid… Goddamnit, why the hell…" the words are all choked up inside, and I can only get a few out at a time.

There's a knock on the door.

"I said leave me alone!" I scream at it.

"I'm coming in!" Jean Paul calls from the other side of the door.

"No!" But he's already inside.

"Robert," He says in that same, simple manner. He walks over to me and stops a foot away.

"Bobby," He says, reaching over and putting his hand of my cheek, "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," I sniff, "I'm an emotional human being,"

Jean Paul doesn't appreciate my attempt at humor. He frowns and steps forward a bit, "I know you said you were sorry for kissing me, Bobby," He whispers, moving in, "But I'm not sorry."

"I-"

Jean Paul presses his mouth to mine. Slipping his tongue inside my already half-open mouth, he brushes it against my lower lip.

I don't have anytime to respond, and suddenly he's leaning away again, "_Je'taime_, Bobby." He says, and I know enough French to understand what he means.

I feel my eyes go wide, "I love you, too," I croak.

Jean Paul smiles and brushes some left over moisture on my cheeks away with his thumb.

"I've always wanted to hear you say that," he says.

A question forms on my tongue, but Jean Paul captures my mouth with his own once more, and I forget what I wanted to ask.

A/N: Y'know, I like this version of 'Denial', better. Wonder why. Reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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